


Namiutsu

by zetsubooty



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: Aged-Up Characters, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Gen, Horror, Suspense-Thriller, spooky small-town jam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-10 15:19:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5591224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zetsubooty/pseuds/zetsubooty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Long-term partners on northern Aomori's detective force, Kazuki and Junta are known for their methodical and decisive case-solving. So when a call for help comes from a remote fishing village experiencing a series of grisly murders, they're sent to assist the inadequate police force. Along with them is new detective Riou; he's got his own skills to bring to the table, and what better way to hone them than under the best and in the field? Which is fine with Junta, so long as it's Riou going his separate way when they get back.</p><p>The further they investigate, the fishier (and creepier) everything seems. And whether it's obstreperous locals or the mouthy coroner, trouble seems to always be grabbing at their heels. Will our dashing detectives solve the mystery and save the day? Or will they too fall prey to the monster stalking Hariyama's shores?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [phixuscarus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phixuscarus/gifts).



> *points at tags* no, seriously.

_In…_

_Out_

He startles like he’d just walked into a wall.

 _I must’ve…come out for a smoke…_ He pats his chest with chill fingers, encountering the cheap satiny polyester of his unzipped coat then the angles of the carton in his pocket. _Guess so_. Automatically, he pulls one out, other hand finding his lighter as he wanders a few steps forward. Rocks shift unsteadily under his feet, jagged edges pressing into the thin soles of his sneakers. _Where…?_

Like a curtain brushing over his consciousness, he registers the sound of waves.

_In…_

_Out_

When he sucks in breath, he sees the strawberry flare of his cigarette in his peripheral vision, and beyond it…pitch black. Except movement, and the longer he looks, the more there is. Lights streaking and bobbing erratically across his vision, far out to sea. _Ships? But they’re so fast…_ He draws heavily on his smoke, fingers pinched around it like a line to pull him back home, back from this strange cold dream. He still walks, not knowing why, stumbling a little and then pitching forward to catch himself on the sharp shore, cigarette scattering sparks.

_Why’re my shoelaces untied?_

_What the hell is happening here?_

_In…_

He gropes around for the cigarette, cold wind already congealing the blood trickling down his palms. Fingers shaking, he raises crumpled damp paper back to his lips, eyes coming up, seeking some helpful sign.

_In…_

Improbable, unruffled, she sits primly on a ridge, combing out her hair. Almost just a silhouette, ink on black silk, visible only when she blocks the lights behind her, the lights zipping closer and closer now.

_In…_

He staggers to his feet to reach her but the rocks slip out from under him, this time spilling him to cut his cheek, his knees, rip through his sleeve. When he struggles back to hands and knees, there’s something sticky on the rocks now, something he thinks is his blood but it’s greasy and foul and there’s so _much_ of it and god, it’s _moving_ —

_In._

“Hey! You got a phone? Hey, lady! I’m _hurt!_ You—”

_In._

She stands with the grace and solemnity of a queen and walks towards him, the foxfire dancing around her like courtly attendants

_In._

Something wraps thick around his legs. His arms. He struggles, but too late. A thousand uncaring strands cut into him like wires, shredding his clothes at elbow and knee. Wrap around his chest and he chokes out another plea but she doesn’t care and the air leaving his lungs just lets the bonds tighten further

_In._

Squeezing, pulling, tearing, inexorable like current’s drag. He prays suffocation will take him before he finds out what being pulled apart feels like, prays no one tells his mother how he died,

_In._

and a face rising above him, filling his darkening vision,

_In._

beautiful and fearsome and colder than the winter sea and laughing, laughing,

_In._

The cigarette smudges

out.


	2. Chapter 2

“Are we there yet?”

“Did you _seriously_ just say that?” Junta cranes around to give Riou a disbelieving glare, not that he’s paying attention. With a sigh, Junta settles back in his seat, wondering as he does frequently how on earth Riou’d ever made it through to detective. “You better be glad we’re not anywhere near civilization, or Kazu-san’d have your ass for not wearing your seatbelt.”

Kazuki adjusts the rearview mirror to look at him, saying, “Riou,” in disappointed warning. There’s grumbling from the back seat followed by the distinctive click of a seatbelt being done back up. Kazuki shoots Junta an unreadable look before returning his eyes to the narrow road cut into the rolling mountains.

“You guys have shorter legs than me! It’s not fair I have to sit in the back.” As if to prove his point, Riou jabs his knee into the back of Junta’s seat.

He swats at him absently. “Barely. Quit complaining, we should be there…” Taking his phone out, he calls up the map; it displays an ‘out of service range’ error. He hadn’t known that was even possible in Japan. “Well, soon, anyway.”

He’s not wrong; they wind through a few more switchbacks and then trace a last broad curve before coming over the mountain’s shoulder above where it claws out into the slate waves below. Hariyama town stumbles down the slopes to fill the jagged shoreline before spilling docks and fishing ships into the rough northern surf.

It’s quiet, only a few people on the road in the middle of the afternoon, even once they reach what Junta assumes is the ‘downtown’. He’s pretty sure at least one person will tell them, “Stuff like this just don’t happen ‘round these parts.”

“Junta. Directions?”

He shakes himself, pulling out his phone again, then grimaces over at Kazuki. “Still don’t have service.”

Kazuki sighs good-naturedly and pulls up to the side of the road.

They’re still waiting for his (ancient) phone to load its map when a shop door a little further up crashes open.

Junta’s out of the car in a flash, Riou popping up beside him. Hands casually near belts, they take quick steps up to where two men are grappling on the ground while a stringy old woman bats them indiscriminately with a duster. The two combatants (one or the other or both of them reeking strongly of beer) separate as they draw nearer; the old lady nobly continues thwapping them.

Riou glances at Junta, then starts, “…Everything alright here?” Junta’s grateful, honestly, because he’s having to bite the inside of his cheek to stop from laughing at the dusty and red-faced men.

The younger of the two men dusts off his pants in a thoroughly offended manner. The other one, who looks to be about Junta’s age, grabs at the old woman’s duster, snapping, “ _Quit_ it, granny!” Finally tearing it out of her hand, he chucks it to the ground and turns large, sharp eyes on them. “There a _problem_ , officers?” His voice starts a challenge and ends in a mocking smirk; it has the rough edge of someone who habitually speaks lower in his register than is natural.

Riou bristles; Junta just crosses his arms, shifting his weight and regarding them levelly. “There sure doesn’t need to be.” _Pegged us for cops, even plainclothes. Though I suppose regular people would walk_ away _from a fight._

“Good. Then we can all go back to _minding our own business_ and keeping our goddamn opinions to _ourselves._ ” Junta’s pegged this one as the instigator (or at the very least, old enough to know better). He jerks his chin aggressively at the younger man and then turns on his heel, sauntering off down the street without a backward glance.

Riou watches him go with narrowed eyes. “You ever irrationally wanna kick someone?”

Junta snorts, patting him on the shoulder. “Yep.” He turns his attention to the two remaining locals. “Well! Now we’ve all made each others’ acquaintance, mind giving us some directions?”

The old woman squints at them before returning to what appears to be a dingy bakery, croaking something unflattering under her breath. The young man proves more helpful, and shortly, they’re returning to Kazuki, now leaning against the hood. He looks deceptively at ease, arms crossed over his chest and lips tracing a slight smile, but Junta’s sure he’s been watching them keenly, particularly Riou.

“You found out where we’re headed?” They nod assent. “Good. Here,” he tosses the keys to Junta, “I could use a break.”

“We’ll barely be driving a minute,” Junta grumbles but walks to the driver’s side anyway.

“When do _I_ get to drive?”

When Riou sits down behind him, Junta shoves the seat back hard.

The kouban takes unassuming to a whole new level, seeming apologetic for its squat presence between a small apartment block and a ramen shop. Junta eyes it doubtfully as he parks behind the lone cop car out front and shuts off the gas.

Before any of them get further than reaching for seatbelts, the door to the kouban slams open. A mousy-brown-haired man in glasses flounders out, sprinting around the hood of the car and fumbling with the door. He drops into the seat and peels off; he’s almost out of sight around a bend when he slows briefly and puts on his siren.

Riou leans an arm on Junta’s seat. “Should we follow him?”

“Expect so.” Junta turns the key in the ignition.

It’s not a long drive but they’ve already left most of the town in the rearview mirror by the time they pull up behind the squad car on a winding shore road. The officer is already up out of his vehicle and hurrying towards the beach when he finally notices them. He jumps violently and then scurries over to the passenger window, tapping officiously.

As soon as Kazuki rolls down the window, he starts, “Um, you folks might want to keep going! There’s, uh, there’s been…” He seems almost embarrassed at having to tell them. Even up close, he’s too baby-faced to pinpoint his age, and doesn’t seem to have noticed he’s run out in only his shirtsleeves and cap, despite the wind ruffling his hair.

Kazuki reaches into his jacket pocket to pull out his ID. “No, I think we’re exactly where we need to be. Has someone found another body?”

The officer stares at Kazuki like he’s the goddess of mercy. Then shakes himself. “Yeah, I just got the call—well, I guess that’s obvious…”

Junta and Riou are already waiting beside the car, Riou wrestling the front of his coat closed; Kazuki cracks his door pointedly. “Why don’t we talk while you take us to the scene?”

The officer nods, stepping back and turning to push his way through some scrubby bushes. Junta follows him quickly, Riou and Kazuki not far behind.

“It’s the Ueno’s boy—at least, that’s what Hirai-san said on the phone. I guess I better call the family…”

Junta shoots a pleading look over his shoulder at Kazuki; he’s met with a raised eyebrow. “One thing at a time, Officer—what’s your name, anyway?”

“Oh! Akimaru Kyouhei. And it’s, uh, sergeant, actually.” He glances back, dipping his head in a quick bow.

Junta slips on the loose pebbles. “Wait, _you’re_ in charge…? You called us in.” Akimaru nods absently. “I’m Takase Junta; you talked to my partner already. And this tagalong is Nakazawa Riou.”

“Nice to meet you,” Akimaru responds automatically. “Well, I guess it’s not really _nice_ , but…” Someone wrapped in hideous neon polyester is hustling towards them; Junta can’t say he’s sorry to end the conversation. Akimaru beckons her closer. “Ah, Hirai-san! Thank you for staying, so sorry…”

Junta ignores the shaken-looking older woman, picking his way down further. Not like they need her to point them towards the body.

Rust streaks the black rocks, collecting in a foul froth on the surface of a tidal pool. The pieces appear to be lying approximately where they’d fallen, one arm and Ueno’s head rolled down the beach a little. Junta does a quick mental tally, pulling a distasteful expression at the waves creeping steadily closer. _It’d better all be here. I_ hate _dragging bits out of the water._

Despite the violence evident, the beach is almost eerily quiet, just the soft rush and fuzz of waves peppered with Hirai’s crackly alto and Kazuki’s level baritone. Akimaru jogs back down the beach with lengths of rebar under one arm and a (unused-looking) roll of police tape.

Riou comes up beside him, crouching down. “It’s sure different out in the boonies, huh?”

“ _That’s_ the first thing that comes to mind?” Junta snorts out a laugh, turning back to the body.

Riou scowls at him. “What, you’d prefer I cry or run off and barf? I’m not _that_ much of a rookie.”

Making a show of eyeing him critically, Junta replies, “I dunno, you look pretty green…”

Riou punches his calf with a soft laugh. “You’re totally lame, y’know?” He cocks his head, arms resting loosely on his knees. “His shoes are untied. But it doesn’t look like he was dragged.”

There’s the soft sound of a vehicle on the road above them. “That dirt looks pretty fresh, though.” Junta bends forward, hands on his knees. “And it’s caked on his cuffs. Whatever he was doing out here, he got here on his own two feet.” He scans the corpse again, exhaling slowly. _Hard to determine much when there’s this much…muck._ For the first time, he’s grateful to the winter chill that keeps the smell from being too revolting. There’s an odd tinge to it, something he can’t place. _Definitely gonna ask for a tox screen…which hopefully won’t take a thousand years out here…_

The corpse’s right hand is clenched tightly. Junta frowns at it, then straightens, twisting to call, “Hey, Sergeant, got any gloves?”

Akimaru blanches. “No. Shoot! I…I hope there’s some in the car… I’ll…” He turns, dashing back up the beach, every movement bespeaking his eagerness to get away.

Junta shoves his hands in his jacket pockets as he walks over to Kazuki. Glancing at Hirai, now on her cell, he still keeps his voice low. “Well, we got lucky, I guess. This definitely looks like a primary scene. She have anything?”

Kazuki shakes his head, giving the old woman a sympathetic look. “No, just out for a walk, poor lady.”

Junta regards him a moment before glancing over his shoulder at Riou, now circling around the body. “Look, does something about this just seem…off to you? Like, I don’t really know _what_ , yet, but—”

Before Kazuki can do more than give him an encouraging nod, there’s a yelp from the direction of the road.

Seamlessly, Kazuki and Junta unzip coats and draw their service weapons, Kazuki crouching down while Junta sidesteps closer, scanning the bushes.

And then stops, making a nonplused expression.

Shoving his way through the branches and then barreling down the beach, dragging Akimaru with a none-too-gentle-looking grip on his arm, is the asshole they’d met earlier. Now carrying a large black case and sporting an official-looking windbreaker.

The man’s eyes flick to Junta, widening a little in recognition. And then snapping behind him. “Oi! Get away from my stiff!” He releases Akimaru, advancing on Riou.

Akimaru skids to a halt on the loose stones. “Ah, Detectives… This is the regional coroner, Haruna.”

 _As if that wasn’t written on the back of his damn jacket. Where was_ that _earlier?_ The jacket that Haruna promptly strips off, wads up, and throws to hit Akimaru with a surprisingly solid _whump_. Akimaru catches it, staring at it for a moment like he’s not sure what it’s for before casting a weirdly fond look of exasperation at Haruna’s back.

“If _I_ catch a cold because _you_ can’t remember your goddamn clothes…”

“Yeah, yeah…” Akimaru sighs, putting the jacket on.

Junta raises an eyebrow. “Huh. Does _he_ have gloves?”

Haruna jabs a hand at his case, already spread open. “One of _you_ guys taken photos, or is that on me too in this crap-ass backwater?”

As he grabs a pair of gloves, Junta catches Riou’s eye, jerking his head back towards the road. Riou pulls a face but jogs off to ask Akimaru.

Settings might change, they might be a team of four having to do the job of a small army, but the work is always the same. Document, collect, catalogue. Not that there’s much to find, apart from Ueno’s wallet and a lone cigarette butt that may or may not have anything to do with the case. There’s barely even garbage; Junta stares back over the beach, mouth twisting in a wry smile. _Enjoy Aomori’s pristine scenic beaches. Just try not to step in the corpses._

When Haruna heads back for the stretcher, Akimaru following him closely, Junta finally gets a chance to pry open Ueno’s hand. But what he could have _sworn_ was a hank of long filthy-looking hair proves to be a few blades of some sea grass. He glares at them, disappointed, but grudgingly bags them. _Probably not relevant, but you never know. Dead leaves might be important._

Kazuki’s hand closes on his shoulder, warm and steadying. “I’m gonna head out with the Sergeant to talk to the family. You follow that charmer with Riou when you’re done here, see what he finds. We’ll meet up at the station.”

Junta glances back quickly. “Kazu…san…” Already heading up the beach, Kazuki turns to raise an eyebrow at him. Junta searches his face for a moment, then just smiles wanly, dipping his head in a quick nod. “See ya.”

* * *

Kazuki waits until they’re outside the gate before patting Akimaru’s shoulder. “You did good in there.”

Akimaru stares fixedly at the cold ground, trudging back to the car. “Really? Was it the part when I almost started crying too, or the part where I totally froze up when he asked me how their son died?” Akimaru smiles at him weakly across the top of the car. “I’m just glad you were there…”

Kazuki meets his eyes with a firm nod. “How many times have you had to do this?” He settles into the passenger seat. “I’ve done it a lot, and let me tell you, there’s no good way to break the news.”

Akimaru slouches in his seat, fingers idly on the bottom of the steering wheel. “I feel like such a… Y’know, I took this posting because I didn’t want to have to deal with this kind of thing.” He huffs out a laugh, glancing away. “I’m a pretty crap excuse for a police officer…”

Kazuki grabs his shoulder again. “Then here’s your chance to step up.”

Akimaru nods slowly, everything in his expression saying _I don’t know if I can._ Without another word, he turns the key in the ignition.

They’ve driven a block in silence when Kazuki slaps his palm against his face. “Akimaru-kun…” He glances at the clock. “They won’t be done with the exam for a while yet. Mind taking me to the motel? I had Junta phone to make reservations, but he said he didn’t get an answer…”

Akimaru grimaces. “That’s probably because it closed down two years ago, if it’s the one I’m thinking of. Tourism hasn’t exactly been booming up this way, last couple years.”

“Ah… So…is there somewhere else…?”

“Yeah.” Akimaru turns a corner to point them into the mountains. “It’s not exactly convenient, but it’s nice. A ryoukan, Echoing Pines.” He flashes a shy smile at Kazuki. “They have a pretty fine little onsen, so I’ve heard! Though I guess you guys won’t really…”

Kazuki raises his eyebrows, settling back in the seat. “I don’t know, a good long soak sounds like exactly what I need right now.” _We’re gonna get it when we hand in the travel receipts. Oh well. I don’t think the boys’ll say no to a treat, either._

He gets Akimaru talking about the town, giving his general impression as a (relative) newcomer to the community. It doesn’t yield much of note but does pass the time until Akimaru’s pulling into a small parking lot next to an ancient-looking truck and two undistinguished small cars.

The ryoukan is old, a little bit run-down in a way that speaks to lack of income rather than lack of effort and love; the wooden sign and the beams of the building are weathered but gleamingly clean. Akimaru lets him out, saying he’ll send Kagu-someone-or-other up to fetch him, then drives off.

He’s greeted at the front desk by a forty-something woman with plump cheeks and a brusque cheeriness, looking like a round little doll in her rather plain kimono. She claps her hands, exclaiming that things are bustling this week despite all that nasty business down at the docks. Kazuki smiles agreeably enough and follows her up the stairs to a modestly-sized traditional room. It still has a kagami mochi tucked into an alcove, lending the otherwise Spartan space a bit of a festive air. She gives him the rundown of meal times and onsen hours and then bustles off, humming happily to herself.

Kazuki turns around slowly, sighing. _Guess there’s nothing I can do except wait for that officer._ He steps over to the dimly lit screen doors, pushing one open to peer through the incongruously modern windows behind. There’s a small tree-hemmed garden, mostly shades of green and grey at this time of year except for a shock of brilliant crimson flowers on one bush. He can see the bamboo fence that probably hides the onsen; Kazuki eyes it wistfully.

He’s roused by a skittering noise behind him. Kazuki takes a decisive breath, shutting the screen and turning away. _Should’ve grabbed my case notes…_

Not that there _was_ much to the case yet. Which was, in theory, why they were here.

No one had pieced things together at first. It was a small town, sometimes people just…left. Particularly young ones. And it wasn’t until much later that the first (known) victim’s car was found abandoned far up the coast. When the first limb showed up snarled in a fisherman’s net in March, it had seemed more probable (or at least more pleasant) that it was the result of some accident. Akimaru’s small force and a local doctor had gleaned what little they could from it and then tried their best to forget.

Even once other body parts started showing up, leaving locals cautious every time they released their nets. It seemed more and more likely that foul play was involved, but it wasn’t until they found a second right arm that Akimaru had to face facts. He had the doctor lay out the pieces and confirmed that there was no way they all came from one person. That, and the first family, the Tsugawas, had come forward with a missing persons claim on their middle daughter, Chieko.

It wasn’t long before Akimaru found himself in over his head. More families had come forward, not all of them matched up to the bodies, and more grim pieces had been found, almost as if the ocean were taunting the community now. The last report had been at the end of December, which was when Akimaru had contacted their office in Aomori City.

There’s another scratchy noise from the closets. Kazuki grimaces at them. _Guess the place isn’t_ that _clean after all._

_So. That’s barely two weeks. Whoever he is, he’s getting more confident. Or more desperate._

Neither is good news. Kazuki turns again, trying to remember if he could see enough of the parking lot to check if the car has arrived.

Then freezes.

His first thought is that it’s the inn’s mistress, but the shadow cast on the screen is thinner. And somehow…bent-looking, the proportions subtly off.

 _It’s just because it’s a shadow, it’s obviously going to be distorted._ Kazuki steps across the room determinedly, ignoring the niggling thought in the back of his mind that he didn’t remember any kind of balcony outside, and throws open the screens.

With a tremendous stutter of wings, a flock of sparrows peels away and up into the cold sky above.

**Author's Note:**

> SO. this is fixing to be a long one. I just wanna be clear that you are in no way obligated to keep up with this, but I was having too much fun with it to drop it when I realised I wasn't gonna be done in time (thus the additional short). Sorry for being a piece of shit who's gifting something unfinished.


End file.
